Left Behind
by Padfootwolfboy
Summary: Harry speaks; Remus remembers. Based on the poem of the same name by Elizabeth Akers.


**Title:** Left Behind  
**Pairing:** Remus/Sirius, if you squint  
**Rating:** PG (for implicit character death)  
**Genre:** Drama/Angst  
**Warnings:** None  
**Spoilers:** Up to OotP  
**Summary:** Harry speaks; Remus remembers.  
**Notes:** Written for **picascribit** 's challenge. Based on the poem of the same name by Elizabeth Akers. The poem in its full form can be found here.

_It was the autumn of the year;  
The strawberry-leaves were red and sere;  
October's airs were fresh and chill,  
When, pausing on the windy hill,  
The hill that overlooks the sea,  
You talked confidingly to me_,

Harry stands on the hill overlooking the sea. His face holds a sour smile. His hands deeply entrenched in his coat and his eyes narrowed at the sun. Wind rustles his hair. He speaks quietly to the man at his side.

Remus is silent, letting Harry's rush of foggy breath hang before him. The words are as crisp as the air. He studies the way the wind shuffles his hair and thinks of James.

_Me whom your keen, artistic sight  
Has not yet learned to read aright,  
Since I have veiled my heart from you,  
And loved you better than you knew._

He talks of Quidditch, of brooms and goals and crowds of people. It is a world that Remus knows so much and yet so little about. He lets Harry retell his glory moments on the field, satisfied at hearing the sound of a voice not his own. It does not matter that as he is drawn back into the world of school and sports and friends, he cannot help but mourn those they have both lost.

_You told me of your toilsome past;  
The tardy honors won at last,  
The trials borne, the conquests gained,  
The longed-for boon of Fame attained;_

He thinks of James flying on his broom, proud and free. Swooping here and darting there, he always made the stands fill with gasps as he pulled up from a dive at the very last moment. It was always at the very last moment, when the final thread of hope was shredded, that James would make a miraculous recovery. He would remerge back in the dorm, cheeks flushed and a great goofy grin on his wind-burned face. They would be dazzled by his play-by-play stories for the rest of the evening.

_I knew that every victory  
But lifted you away from me,  
That every step of high emprise  
But left me lowlier in your eyes;  
I watched the distance as it grew,  
And loved you better than you knew._

He remembers Peter's face as they listened him—full of awe and wonder and maybe just a hint of jealousy. The small pudgy boy who was known by few yet was always in the presence of such prestige. He had his hero to aspire to and inspire him. All he wanted was the encouragement of such an irrepressible force, and he would dedicate his love forever.

_You did not see the bitter trace  
Of anguish sweep across my face;  
You did not hear my proud heart beat,  
Heavy and slow, beneath your feet;  
You thought of triumphs still unwon,  
Of glorious deeds as yet undone;_

Of course they were all a bit envious of James at one time or another, even Sirius, though he rarely showed it. He played the best friend, the dutiful companion, the brother in mischief and magic. It was not to say he didn't enjoy it, for he did—_immensely,_ at times—but there were the moments when James' bragging became too much for even him. He longed for the solitude of Remus' side, where book-driven conversations and a quick wit kept him satisfied.

It was then that he would leave James and search out the quiet, studious boy in the library to read with him by lamplight when the hours grew long. And James would grow malcontent left to his own devices, a frustrated scowl on his lips. It resembled the one now plain on Harry's ashen face.

_And I, the while you talked to me,  
I watched the gulls float lonesomely,  
Till lost amid the hungry blue,  
And loved you better than you knew_

He is still speaking, as Remus drifts back from his reverie. Harry speaks of Cedric and Fleur and the Twiwizard Tournament. His face is set firm into one of bitter remorse, but Remus feels it best if the boy share his thoughts. The green eyes already tell him it is not really him to whom he speaks. They are staring out at the gray seabirds, circling lazily in the deep blue of the autumn sky. It reminds Remus of James and Sirius behind Godric's Hollow.

_You walk the sunny side of fate;  
The wise world smiles, and calls you great;  
The golden fruitage of success  
Drops at your feet in plenteousness;  
And you have blessings manifold: -  
Renown and power and friends and gold, _

The war had started, but school had ended and that was reason enough to celebrate. Add on the fact that James and Lily just finished the purchase of their first real house as a married couple and were holding their first house-warming party of the season. Only six people attended.

James and Sirius flew high overhead, practicing old Quidditch moves and daring each other into new stunts. Only this time they could not be stopped by the likes of McGonagall. Remus sat by the rounding Lily, pregnant with James' first child. It was a boy; she knew it. She shared this with Remus numerous times. Peter sat to the left of him, close enough to hear the conversation but did not engage. He was wrapped up in every swerve and turn made by James or Sirius on the broom. He showed his rapture by exploding into wild applause or raucous gasps at every mild exploit. James thrived under the attention and patted Pete forcefully on the back in thanks when he and Sirius landed for sandwiches.

Life was good. They were young and free and invincible.

_They build a wall between us twain,  
Which may not be thrown down again,  
Alas! for I, the long years through,  
Have loved you better than you knew._

Then the Potter's were ushered into hiding. Peter's job at the Ministry kept him busy from dawn 'til dusk, even on weekdays. Sirius talked about life and death issues only to strangers and Remus was too proud to admit he was lonesome on the full moons. It was autumn of the year and October winds whispered to him the fate of his friends, exactly twenty years ago.

_I used to dream in all these years  
Of patient faith and silent tears,  
That Love's strong hand would put aside  
The barriers of place and pride,  
Would reach the pathless darkness through,  
And draw me softly up to you._

Remus feels Harry's sharp eyes on him. He stopped speaking long moments ago. A question had been posed.

"Forgive me, Harry," the older man whispers quietly. "I drifted away into my thoughts again. Would you repeat the question?"

"I ask you if you were ready to go."

The green eyes do not waver and Remus thinks that yes, he is ready to leave. He is now the only one left and has been waiting to join his friends for a long time.

_But that is past. If you should stray  
Beside my grave, some future day,  
Perchance the violets o'er my dust  
Will half betray their buried trust,  
And say, their blue eyes full of dew,  
"He loved you better than you knew."_


End file.
